


Then And Now

by hyperions



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Past Corvo Attano/Jessamine Kaldwin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 18:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13254021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperions/pseuds/hyperions
Summary: Moments shared in the Void can feel different from the moments budding anew within Dunwall Tower when The Outsider finds Corvo again upon his return to humanity.





	Then And Now

**Author's Note:**

> Just a small Corvosider thing because they're a pairing I've always wanted to write for and I kind of just let it all spill out, haha. I'm thinking of writing a proper fic or them at some point, but here's this until then. (:

The Void tastes like heat and smoke and salt water. Like black magic and aged secrets amongst the dusted copper tang of blood. All this and more in a kiss; mouth feverish on mouth, hungry for more of the heat that contrasts so great to the cold of its essence unfurled wide around him, sinking ice into bone. The Outsider's mouth is silk in spite of this; satin atop the coarseness of flesh born mortal. Corvo can also taste the smile in it -- the smugness aligned with the intent curiosity of any god playing at the graceless craft of men. He is not dissatisfied it seems to the mere man who settles rough hands along his hipbones and yanks him closer within the inky blackness.

A purr announces approval and thin fingers curl into the collar of Corvo's jacket. They insist upon closeness, urge him firmer to the outline of the immortal's shape; the shape of a young man, the lean sway of his physique beneath the broader bulk of his own. Slender, lithesome, fluid like a cat with the way he curves into his body with a lazy arch and Corvo complies by dragging him to his front, growling a pleased noise into the deity's smirking mouth.

A part of him wonders if this is real at all or an illusion woven lovingly into his sleep. The Outsider is an architect of all things unknown and unexpected; an artist whose brushstrokes paint chaos and beauty into shapes senseless to the mortal eye. Corvo has never stared slack-jawed in awe at his work, nor bowed his head in a gesture of devotion for anyone besides the deceased Empress whose pretty face he used to cup so close to his own. Even now, with the languid flick of The Outsider's tongue down the curve of his lip, he feels entangled more in a man than in the Void given form. Even when he tastes like ocean spray and arcane heat, the same heat that throbs in the clutch of his palm when he plucks a bone charm from a poor zealot's shrine. The same that lines the mark burned black into the back of his hand.

It is still a far place from kissing any man or woman. And not at all like the softness nor the sharp ferocity of Jessamine's lips claiming his own. It's truly something without description; surreal, yet intimate especially in the way their noses brush when they part to breathe. And those eyes. Those black, black eyes. The Overseers warn of their emptiness, of their harsh cold and the cruelty in their indifference. Others coo of their beauty, of the endless mystery so like the black night sky they inspire within those who believe. There is comfort in nothingness, just as there is fear and isolation and the numbing frost of a helpless heart. Corvo feels neither when he catches a glimpse into those eyes, the ones that stare in a fondness he doesn't remember earning nor looking for. He feels something entirely new - a something that settles tender between hardened ribs.

"My dear Corvo," comes that quiet voice he can feel against his mouth. "Does something trouble you?"

The assassin doesn't have words yet, ever the strong and silent type. Truth be told, his blood is still running hot after ending the coup that would've torn Emily from him and from her throne. His head still buzzes foggy from when The Outsider had approached him in a toss of the Void, welcoming him into waiting arms and the lazy drawl of amusement. He can still hear the whales just beyond his sight -- their somber songs lacing eerie notes betwixt the embrace of ageless leviathan and quiet protector.

Corvo kisses him again and feels the smoke of magic tickling charcoal on his tongue. His mouth curves a small smile into the words he eventually responds with. "You talk too much."

It's a rare thing to hear The Outsider laugh, and rarer yet when it's muffled by another man's mouth. A secret of the Void itself, folded into its many corners and crevices where even the dead don't stray.

But there comes a day so many years later when The Outsider hides no cryptic secrets in the roll of his laugh. A day where his eyes blink pale green into the sunlight and he stumbles up the steps of Dunwall Tower without the Void leaking through his seams. It's the last thing Corvo had expected while somehow expecting it all the same, as though the Void had still found ways to whisper warm breath along the shell of his ear and tangle his hair in an unholy wind.

The Outsider stays with them in a room of his own as he settles anew into bones he hasn't felt for centuries. Corvo spends time at his side, unsure of what to expect from godness swathed mortal - particular this force, the one who has been both a blessing and curse lurking watchful in the span of his shadow. But his eyes reveal the slip of something he hadn't been able to see before; the humanity glimpsing almost hopeful and adoring into the dark of his own eyes, the eyes that look tired in the twilight and coax The Outsider in to cup his cheek.

"How is it, then? Being human again?" Corvo asks him as they lean to the railing of his balcony. Even as the day seeps into night, The Outsider's green eyes shine bright beneath the shafts of moonlight framing their shoulders. It's been a month or so since their reunion on the tower steps and Corvo still can't help but stare into the gaze he knows wants him here, right here. "No one's giving you trouble, are they?"

To this, The Outsider's small smile softens gentle as he lifts a finger to the slight roughness of Corvo's lips. He leaves it there, lets it lean to the barest part of his mouth as he himself tilts his face up closer. "You talk too much."

His voice isn't everywhere. It's not in his head, in his blood, in his bones, in the strong and aching meat of him. Nor is it in the night or the salt of the sea air on all sides, beckoning him closer in the will of something so much larger. No, it's only here -- only in the breath of his voice washed soft to the skin of his cheek and the bristle of his beard. It makes his neck prickle, makes a tingle crawl claws down the vertebrae somehow more come-hither than the purr of the Void. So he smiles, rare as it is on the stern countenance of his face, and catches The Outsider's mouth in a kiss.

Hot, hungry yet again, but so much more needy than the languid movement and motions in the sway of the Void -- _their_ Void. He feels the bite of The Outsider's nails raking lines into the back of his neck, ravenous for purchase like the covetous press of his lips. And in the midst of it, he grabs for one of Corvo's hands and urges it to his chest. There, to the calloused cup of his palm, he feels the drumming of a heart he hasn't felt before. It _thud-thud-thuds_ a warm and steady beat, fluttering bird-like in its cage as real as his own. When the scratch of his face bows to The Outsider's neck to mouth over the flicker of his pulse, he feels him yanking him there by the hair in the heavy breath of a sigh.

Corvo grins rugged to the soft curve of his jugular and knows The Outsider's smiling too, basking in intimacy anew and so different than shards of old moments sprawled amongst the black stone of the Void. Where hands had once turned to smoke and the line between mind and matter had been smeared a blur, those moments are still gems cherished like lovers' rings between them. But this -- this with salt in their hair and on their tongues and the clumsy fumbling of mortal men -- is new territory to conquer and savor within the spoils.

The Outsider thinks the same, it seems, as his fingers pull all-too-familiar at the lapels of his jacket like they always have. Their time in Dunwall Tower is theirs on equal terms without the need to sneak into dark corners where reality meets Void in hidden folds. Now they have Corvo's bed and the sound of the waves crashing into the rocks below, just like they will have tomorrow and they day after that too. And with hearts beating, pounding a rhythm clumsily in-sync when they meet at the peak of it where gasped names tie them together more so than the Void ever did.


End file.
